


More Forsaken Than Usual

by NervousAsexual



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: ALLEGEDLY, Episode s01e16: The Forsaken, Everything Odo Hates in the Universe, Mild Spoilers, Quark - Freeform, Regeneration, Turbolift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousAsexual/pseuds/NervousAsexual
Summary: In the Prime Universe, Odo is stuck on a turbolift with Lwaxana Troi and unnecessary heterosexual overtones are established.In our universe, Odo is stuck on a turbolift with Quark.





	More Forsaken Than Usual

**Author's Note:**

> I was always really, really uncomfortable with how The Forsaken ended for Odo and Lwaxana--he made it abundantly clear he wasn't interested and she kept chasing after him anyway, and in the end he was basically forced into intimacy with her when he had to regenerate in the turbolift.
> 
> So let's pretend it's different if it's Quark instead of Lwaxana.

He has seen others unwillingly lose consciousness before. Bajoran ore workers, Klingons with raging fevers. Quark, on one memorable occasion. One time he himself was knocked out by debris.

This is different.

Quark sits on one side of the turbolift and he sits on the other. For the moment there is silence between them and he can try his best to keep his form. When he tries to delay the regeneration there is not so much pain as a hot creeping weakness. His form keeps slipping without his being aware of it.

If he focuses as hard as he can he can hold the general form together. Little things--his nose, his ears, the front of his shirt--start to run.

"Your ears," Quark pipes up, "look more... terrible than usual."

"Knowing your standards for ears," Odo snaps back, "I'll take that as a compliment."

Quark blusters and gathers his freshly laundered tablecloths to his chest. "There's no need to be rude."

Odo rolls his eyes to the ceiling and wonders exactly how long it would take to be killed by the exposed circuits in the turbolift shaft, and if he could leave some kind of note of explanation for the others.

"I just thought you should know," Quark continues. "I mean, I know how terribly sensitive you are about those things on the sides of your head you call ears."

No, Odo decides, shifting himself closer to the edge of the turbolift, they would surely understand.

"I figured if you already knew about them you'd have fixed them... at least as much as you can fix them. They look like some one taped hairless tribbles to your head. Usually, I mean. Now they just look runny."

"Because I'm trying not to regenerate, Quark," he snaps, turning toward him. He can feel his assumed facial features blurring and returning to their gelatinous state. "Would you rather I look like this?"

 Quark gasps dramatically and clutches at the tablecloths. "Odo! You're melting! Wait, wait, I've heard a human story like this... did you get wet, somehow?"

 If he could have one wish, in that moment, Odo would not wish to know his origins, or to resolve his origins on Bajor, or to calm the current state of galactic affairs. He would wish for his bucket. Not to sleep in, but to break over Quark's head.

"I'm regenerating," he grumbles, turning away again. "Or trying not to."

"Oh. Oh, right, the thing to do with the bucket. Every eighteen hours you have to go back in and regenerate, right? ...or was it sixteen?"

"Sixteen." He could only wish it were eighteen. When he looks down at his hands the fingers have all run together. With a great deal of concentrated effort he manages to separate them again into five digits, but they are all connected by a thick web. He tucks his fingers under his arms.

 "So what's the big deal? Just go be gloop for a bit and then don't be. Doesn't seem too hard."

Now his fingers and his arms are running together. He huddles tighter into the darkest corner of the turbolift.

"Unless you're afraid of accidentally running off the lift platform while you're gloop and getting electrocuted to death." Quark sounds deep in thought. "Well, I suppose I do have these tablecloths and we could make you a small nest. As long as you clean them when you're done. I've already washed them once, I'm not doing it again."

"It's not that."

"Oh. Then I don't get it."

"It's that..." He debates to himself how much is too much to tell Quark, but his mind feels as muddy as his body. "Nobody's seen me, like this, before. I don't let people watch me."

Quark is actually quiet for a moment and he dares to hope the conversation is over. His hopes are dashed as Quark finally says, "Why not?"

"Why not? It's personal. You wouldn't want anyone staring at you while you prepared yourself for bed, and I don't want anyone watching me regenerating."

"Oh, I get it."

Somehow he doubts it.

"Rule of Acquisition 87: trust is the biggest liability of all."

He notices a tickle on his cheek; the skin of his face has begun to run as well.

"Being vulnerable is hard," Quark declares. "Especially being vulnerable with people."

He can barely keep his eyes open.

"But..."

But.

He hears himself whimper a little and instantly feels ashamed.

"I'm not really people. Am I?"

 He glances back. Quark is sitting cross-legged on the floor behind him, holding out his tablecloths like a bag.

"I thought we were friends," Quark says. He sounds just a little hurt and Odo has to laugh. "What? It isn't funny. We trust each other, right?"

Not as far as he could throw him.

"You trust me to have shady dealings and I trust you to come poking around after them. That's trust. That's friends."

He's never heard anything so laughable and he turns around to prove it. He looks right into Quark's face, waiting for the look of horror and disgust he's always known will touch the face of anyone who sees him like this. But maybe it's harder to read the face of a Ferengi than he thought, because Quark doesn't look horrified and doesn't look disgusted. He looks back at Odo with his head tilted to one side. His forehead might be a little more wrinkled than usual but he's too tired to tell for sure.

"You don't look so good, Odo," Quark says, but this time it doesn't sound like an insult.

"I can't hold this shape forever," he admits.

Quark nods, and nods, and he holds out the tablecloth nest. "So don't."

He sighs and lets go of his shape and he pools down into the nest. It feels... good.

* * *

Quark watched as the puddle of gloop settled into the tablecloth spread across his lap.

"Ew," he said.

But he looked down at the puddle, and he smiled.


End file.
